Breaking Point
by DreamWings231
Summary: "Your friends are as pathetic as you, but for Washington?" Locus let out a rare laugh, "He was entertaining to break." "You're bluffing." With smugness in his voice, Locus smirked a little, "You must be Lavernuis. It's your name David screams for help."


**Waring: Implied rape**

**Also, please don't hate the author**

* * *

Footsteps broke the silence surrounding the prisoner. Staring across his glass cell door, Wash glared at the mercenary, "Well, I wasn't expecting a visit."

"I never thought you'd be the joking type, Agent Washington."

"Well, you don't look like the type to keep prisoners alive nor take mercy, what you actually care about us?" At that comment, Wash noticed Locus' hand clench and the tension hidden underneath the armor, "Wait, someone's ordering you to keep us alive. Why would the Feds do that? It's clear we're siding with the New Republic."

"That's none of your concern right now, you're lucky you and your friends are alive."

"Then would you give me the pleasure on telling me why you're even here?"

Locus remained silent and opened the cell door, kneeling to the unarmored Freelancer, long energy cuffs loosely chaining him to the wall. "I don't have the orders to kill you." Suddenly, Locus was single handedly choking Wash, tightening his grip and added, "Not yet. But until the moment I get to kill you and your pathetic excuse of soldiers, I'll need to satisfy myself."

Bruises started to form as Wash managed to choke out, "What the fuck."

Locus tilted the blonde's head up, "_I will break you, David._"

* * *

Gunshots were everywhere. Explosions scattered around as Tucker, Caboose, Grif, and Simmons infiltrated the Federal Army's Base with several others rebels.

Eventually, the sim troopers went further in the base and found their way to the prison cell block. At the hallway leading to the cells stood the mercenary himself, Locus.

"Shit, it's him!" Grif yelled and fired his rife with the other three following.

Locus activated his cloaking device, disappearing then snuck up to the troopers, revealing himself as he punched Tucker's back, kicked Simmons' shins, and grabbed the back of Grif's armor and throwing him to the wall. But he didn't have time to react to Caboose body slamming him.

"I got him!" Their victory became short when Locus punched Caboose's head and kneeing him in the gut. "I don't got him." Caboose wheezed out, rolling off the merc, trying to catch his breath.

"Fighting you four is child's play; you're not my main objective," Locus announced, getting up and turning away from the sim troopers' aimed guns.

Under his breath, Simmons muttered, "Dick."

"Your friends are as pathetic as you, but for Washington?" Locus let out a rare laugh, "He was entertaining to break."

Before anyone could blink, Locus had his back against the wall with a glowing sword at his throat.

Even with the visor, everyone in the hallway knew that Tucker was glaring at the mercenary. "You're bluffing."

Another chuckle and the sword inched closer, "He's already a broken man. It was a matter of time before he completely shattered. I just have the pleasure of being the one to make him crumble." With smugness in his voice, Locus smirked a little, "You must be Lavernuis. It's your name David screams for help."

The second Locus' words were spoken; Tucker pulled back his sword and slashed it at Locus' neck.

Or where it's supposed to be.

Locus maneuvered his way under the sword's path, jabbing his elbow into Tucker's ribcage. Bullets crashed after him as his cloaking mechanism activated, running down the hallway away from the sim troopers.

When the merc was nowhere to be seen, Caboose walked up to Tucker, still standing in front of the wall with his arm leveraging him and his sword arm tightly gripping his weapon.

"Tucker?" Caboose lightly poked Tucker's shoulder, "Tucker, the mean man is gone. We can see Washingtub again."

"Caboose is right," agreed Simmons, "Which is kind of weird to say."

"It's Caboose, of course it's weird," Grif commented.

Turning to his teammates, Tucker finally got his voice back, "Yeah, we can finally see him. Come on," Tucker led the others into the prison unit, "Let's go!"

In no time, the Reds were reunited but there was no sign of the Blue leader.

"I'm not sure why he was separated from us," Sarge said when he was freed from his cuffs, "But I bet nothing good was the reason."

"You guys," Tucker gestured to the Reds and Caboose, "Get to the warthogs, if I don't come back with Wash, leave without me."

The Reds reluctantly followed the order, Grif and Simmons helping Donut and Sarge walk since the cuffs electrocuted them whenever they resisted. Sarge more than Donut from the way Sarge struggled to walk.

As for the taller Blue, Caboose firmly declared, "No Tucker, I'm going to see Wash with you."

Tucker simply nodded his head and the two ran further down the prison unit, yelling out for Wash. Near the end of the unit was when they a cell block with the door wide open.

Rushing up to it, Caboose and Tucker froze at the sight of their friend. Wash was lying, nearly lifeless, on the ground. His under suit was torn open, revealing multiply cuts, blood pooled around him with streaks of red bleeding from the wounds.

Shock was immediately replaced with panic as Tucker ran up to the injured, after seeing Wash quietly breathing with a weak pulse, he quickly tore off pieces of the ruined under suit and tied them as makeshift bandages, all the while muttering to himself, "Come on Wash, you are not dying on me. On us."

Caboose helped Tucker lift Wash's body out of the cell, silenced by all the blood but made a small whimper, "Washingtub."

As quickly as they could, they got Wash into their Warthog. The Reds were in their own Warthog and didn't dare ask if Wash was alright from the sight of his wounds.

They all sighed in relief when Tucker said, "He has a weak pulse, let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

"So how is he?"

The doctor looked up from his clipboard as Kimball approached him by the observation window of the patient's room. Through the glass, Kimball watched Caboose on the floor of the room drawling pictures of cats and Tucker nodding off from his seat by Wash's bed.

The ex-Freelancer's wounds were all wrapped up and stopped bleeding and so far maintain a steady heartbeat ever sense the doctors gave the okay for Wash to have visitors.

"Well, minor scratches have been healed but there's a lot of deep cuts, mostly likely from a knife, it barely damaged an organ but the pain must have been unbearable," the doctor turned his attention to the patient, "I've read books and seen movies of men being tortured but this is just _horrible_."

The rebel leader placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "We're all new and young for war, we need to prepare the worst, but mostly of all we need each other. Doctor Free, you saved his life, that's all that matters right now."

Free let out a shaky breath, "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Good, now you should check on other patients, I should tell the Captains to get back to their men."

She took one step away only for Free to catch her wrist, "Wait; there's more." Free handed her the clipboard, the more she read, the more her eyes widen and her mouth gaped open.

She gave him back the clipboard, "Did you tell them?"

"I stopped telling them the diagnosis when Captain Caboose started crying at the part of the knife wounds."

Kimball nodded once and went inside the room. Caboose smiled up at her and lifted his drawling.

"Look! It's a blue kitty! Washington will get better faster when he sees it, he loves kitties."

Returning her own smile, Kimball felt a small part of herself envious of Caboose's innocence, on how he sees the light and good and remain as a child. "I'm sure he'll love it. Caboose, you should go help your men, they miss their captain."

"Okay," the blond got up and waved goodbye to his unconscious friend, "Bye Washingtub!"

The other captain in the room still nodding off, not processing Kimball's arrival until she tapped his shoulder, alerting him awake, "Kimball? What?"

"Tucker, you should get some sleep in your own bed or eat, it's gonna be a while until Washington wakes up." The teal soldier said nothing; only shifting his head to face his injured friend. Sighing, Kimball mentally debated whether to tell Tucker the darkest part of the diagnosis. "Tucker, there's something Doctor Free didn't tell you; the knife wounds aren't the worst of his torture."

Kimball was waiting for Tucker to ask what but to her surprise, he said, "I know." His fingers slightly twitched, tempted to grasps Wash's hand but instead balled up tightly, "Kimball, I know what sex looks like and this is definitely _not_ sex."

Neither of them dared to break the silence. Kimball saw raw anger in Tucker's eyes, no doubt in her mind that he was planning the death of a certain federal mercenary.

* * *

When Wash woke up he felt like he was in a dream.

There were no cuffs chaining him, no cold cell to glare at, and no mercenary slowly torturing him.

No one was hurting him.

Blinking, Wash slowly processed his surrounding of the dark room. He ignored the numb feeling from nearly all of his wounds as he slowly pushed himself up in to a sitting position. After his eyes adjusted, Wash noticed the breathing figure in the chair besides his bed.

"Tucker?" Wash gasped, he grimaced a bit from the slight pain of his injured arm but nonetheless shook the man's shoulder, "Tucker, is that really you?"

The man groggily opened his eyes, "Wash?" Tucker breathed in sharply, "Wash, you're awake!" Before Wash could utter a word, Tucker picked one of Wash's freckled cheeks, hard.

The blond yelped and slapped the hand away, "What was that for!"

"I don't know, to make sure I'm awake?" Tucker sarcastically asked and glared, "That's the only way I can physically hurt you when you're injured for being a goddam idiot!"

"Look, I didn't want any more of the rebels or you guys getting shot at," Wash retorted back.

Tucker just stared at him coldly, ready to yell back for Wash's idiotic heroism but as his eyes shifted different emotions, his expression soften as well as his voice, "I thought you were dead."

Taken back from the vulnerability of the words, Wash let go of his own anger and muttered, "I thought that myself." The two Blues stayed quiet in the night's comfort, Tucker moved out of the chair and sat beside Wash. The blond scooted over and brushed his arm against the dark skinned arm, the small warmth between the two reminded them that they're alive.

But small human contact wasn't enough.

The first sign of Wash breaking down was when he curled into a ball. He hugged his knees to his body, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down as he shut his eyes from watering.

On instant, Tucker pulled the smaller man between his legs, warping his arms around Wash, pulling him to his chest. Shushing into his ear, Tucker repeated, "You're okay, Wash, you're safe."

Wash gradually calmed down but a few tears managed to escape his eyes.

They stayed silent until Tucker murmured, "You don't always have to be strong."

"Yes, yes I do," Wash curled in more, "I'm supposed to be your leader, and leaders can't be weak. I have to be strong or because nearly everyone know." He trailed off and bit his lip to stop the emotional flood inside him but tears were slowly falling.

Tucker gently drew circles on Wash's arms, "You're strong, you're always are Wash."

"Tucker, I'm not, I was always the weakest back in Project Freelancer, I barely had any idea on how to be a leader for you guys, and Locus," Wash let out a shaky breath and rambled, "He, I couldn't stop him, he just, he just wanted to see me suffer." Another tear fell. "And he did."

Frowning, Tucker shifted to be in front of Wash, his legs locked behind the blonde's back. He gently lifted Wash's head up, his thumb brushing over a freckled cheek, wiping away tear streaks, "Stop comparing yourself with the other Freelancers, you're not weak. You are a great leader; I just hate orders and drills. And if anyone's going to suffer it's going to be that bastard."

Wash leaned a bit into Tucker's palm, mentally denying his liking of being this close to Tucker. He looked up into Tucker's brown eyes, "Thanks for rescuing me."

Quirking a smile, Tucker replied, "Dude, I'm like Superman, I have to save the girl."

The blond glared, "Did you just call me the girl?"

"Well, it's that or you being the third wheel best friend."

"You can be a real ass sometimes."

"It's part of my charm. Now, do you want to kiss or not?"

A little bit of Wash's heart melted at the fact that Tucker felt obligated to ask his permission. Leaning forward, his lips hesitantly brushed against Tucker's. As Wash placed his hands on Tucker's shoulder, the hand on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, tugging on this hair to angle the kiss while the other hand was at his back pulling him closer until Wash was saddling Tucker.

Breaking the kiss, Tucker pressed their forehead together, "You know I'm never letting you go now, right? I have to make sure you don't do any more stupid shit."

"Yeah, I kind of figured."

* * *

Thanks for reading this fic. Please, Washington fangirls, don't hate me! I just wanna be you're friend!


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